


I'm Terrified

by emdaro



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:42:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emdaro/pseuds/emdaro
Summary: Race didn't do the feelings thing, not with anyone. Certainly not with Spot Conlon.





	I'm Terrified

Race didn’t do feelings. It wasn’t his thing, it had never been his thing. When he had first crawled into bed with the king of Brooklyn, he convinced himself it was harmless.

It was harmless, at first. He had always found Spot attractive, it was a shock to find out the other boy returned his attractions. It was purely sexual. No strings attached, as Spot reminded him every time he kicked him out of bed and he had to make the midnight trek back to Manhattan. It was exactly what Race needed, a stress reliever and a little human contact after a long day of hawking headlines. The other boys were pretty neutral about the entire thing. They had all found out about a month after it started. Race had shown up late one morning, hickeys covering his neck. The truth had come out quickly, since Race saw no reason to hide it. No one had really said anything. Later that night, Jack approached him and said he was being an idiot. It wasn’t healthy for him to seek comfort that way, blah blah blah. Race fired back with a remark about the healthiness of being in love with your best friend but unable to express it. They didn’t speak about it again after that. So yeah, Race was fine. It was what he wanted.

The first time Race realized he might be falling for Spot was three months after their arrangement began. They were laying in bed, chests heaving. Spot rolled off of Race and laid next to him, his head resting against Race’s chest. They didn’t cuddle often but when they did Spot was strictly a little spoon. Not that Race would ever tell anyone, Spot would murder him without a second thought if he did. Spot glanced at the time on his old watch. “It’s too late for you to walk back, just crash here tonight.” They were in what was Spot’s version of Jack’s penthouse, the airy attic of some old warehouse. A few boards had come loose in the ceiling so you could see the stars peeking through. Spot had dragged an old mattress up there and a couple blankets. It was their place.

Race was silent for a bit. “You want me to stay?”

Spot snorted. “I just don’t want you goin’ out there and gettin’ hurt.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Race’s heart sped up slightly, He brought his hand up and absently stroked Spot’s hair. One of Spot’s arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him gently before just resting there. “Yeah, alright. I can stay then.” His voice was quiet.

Spot looked up at him, a small smile on his face. “Good.” He sat up briefly, pulling a blanket over the two of them. He fell asleep quickly but Race stayed up for long after, just staring at Spot. There was one thought running through his mind, over and over. _Shit._

The next few weeks were torture. More and more nights were spent in Spot’s attic. Sometimes they didn’t even have sex. They just talked or played cards or smoked. Those nights Race would go back to Manhattan, consider going up to the penthouse to talk to Jack about it, then walk into the lodging house and try to go to sleep. The nights they had sex were the ones that Race stayed, too weak to even consider moving away from Spot before he was told to. Once he had come to the realization that he was falling for Spot, it all happened quickly. Every day Race discovered an aspect of Spot’s personality that made him fall more. Like the day when Race had seen him helping a little boy pay for a night at the lodging house because he hadn’t managed to sell enough papers or the time when he came over to Manhattan because Race wasn’t feeling well enough to make the trek to Brooklyn. Spot was vulnerable in front of Race. He told Race a little about his family, how he became leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Race returned the favor by telling Spot about getting kicked out of his house when he said he wanted to be a boy. It was nice to share things with someone. They never discussed these subtle changes though. There were still no feelings, nothing. Just sex. Race only stayed because it was too late to walk back to Manhattan and they talked because they couldn’t possibly have sex all the time. That was all.

Race flopped over in bed, exhausted from their evening activities. He sat up and winced slightly. Spot had been rather…enthusiastic that night. He started to pull his clothes on, sitting on the edge of the bed. He paused lacing his shoes up when he felt kisses on his neck. He leaned back as he felt Spot’s arms wrap around his waist, his eyes slipping shut.

“Stay.” Spot whispered, sucking a small hickey onto his shoulder. “You’s always in such a hurry to leave.”

Race shrugged. “I ain’t in a hurry.” He turned and kissed Spot, his hands finding their way to Spot’s shoulders. They kissed for a few minutes, Spot pulling Race until they were laying down with Race on top of Spot.

“Race? Can we talk about somethin’?” Spot asked when they finally broke apart.

Race rested his head against Spot’s chest and nodded. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I…I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Race froze. He knew the day would come. He would never be able to keep Spot to himself. They were nothing, they had nothing besides sex and friendship. “Oh. Okay. I…”

“No, hold on. Let me finish.” Spot tilted Race’s chin up. “I can’t do this anymore because this isn’t what I want. I want…I want more. With you. I want more with you.”

Race slowly sat up and got to his feet. He started to get dressed, his movements mechanical. His brain was going into autopilot. Avoid the situation which would inevitably end to Race getting hurt.

“Race? Race, say somethin’.” Spot laughed nervously, sitting up with the blanket wrapped around his waist.

“That wasn’t the deal. No strings, remember?” Race’s voice was so cold, he hated it. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to tell Spot he wanted the same things but he knew he didn’t. It was just the loss of human contact, that was all. It was fine.

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Spot nodded, his face going blank. He was no longer Spot Conlon, the guy that Race had spent countless hours mapping out every corner of Race’s body. The guy who helped little newsies learn how to fight and held Race when that dreaded time of the month came around. He was Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn newsies. The most feared and respected newsie in all of New York, someone who wouldn’t be caught dead with Race. Race hated that version of Spot. “Get going then.”

Race adjusted his hat on his head and nodded. “Yeah. I…I’ll see you around.” He turned and slowly walked out of the building. The walk back home had never felt longer.

Race lasted three days. Three miserable days without Spot coming around to bother him at Sheepshead, without hanging out in the attic. He broke down and told Jack everything one night, unable to keep any more secrets from his best friend. Jack was incredibly kind. He held Race, trying to comfort him. He didn’t have much advice to offer, other than, “You’s bein’ an idiot, just go tell him. I’s sure he’s miserable without you too.”

Race had ignored that advice, for about a day. He hadn’t meant to follow Spot. He had seen him turning down a side street and his feet had just started moving, pursuing the one person he really wanted to see. He realized where Spot was going about halfway there and climbed up the ladder after him, into the attic.

Spot turned around as he heard a board creek, dark eyes fierce. “What are you doin’ here?”

Race bit his lip but couldn’t find the words. He just couldn’t.

“Well? You gonna say somethin’ or just stand there like an idiot? I don’t got all day, Higgins.”

“I love you.” The words hung in the air after Race said them.

Spot seemed stunned. His face went blank, his mouth opening to form a little ‘o’. “You what?”

“I love you. I love you and I am terrified.” The words tumbled out of Race, he was powerless to stop them. “I’m terrified that I’m gonna wake up one day and find you gone. I’m terrified you’s gonna want a real boy someday, one with all the right parts. I’m so fuckin’ terrified, Spot, because I ain’t ever felt this way for anyone before and there ain’t ever been anyone who’s wanted me before.”

Spot was silent again. He took a step towards Race. “You love me?”

Race nodded, his cheeks burning. There was no denying it, not to Spot or Jack or even himself. “Yeah. Have for a while, I think.”

“You ain’t gonna wake up and find me gone.” Spot took another step, the distance between them shrinking. “And I don’t care about parts, you’s more man that anyone I ever met.” Another step, Race could reach out and touch Spot if he wanted. “I’ve wanted you since that first time we kissed, after the card game. Remember?” Race remembered. It had been dark and messy, the result of too much alcohol and too few inhibitions. “I ain’t ever gonna leave you, as long as you want me around.” Race could see a smudge of dirt on Spot’s cheek, he reached out and wiped it away. Spot’s hand reached up and caught Race’s, holding it there. “But you gotta promise me you won’t do this to me again. I can’t handle you walkin’ out on me again.” His tone was casual, but there was a genuine fear behind the words.

Race nodded. “Spot, I ain’t gonna walk out. Not ever again. I was stupid. I shoulda stayed here. I’s so sorry, I messed up and I was so-“

“Alright, alright.” Spot smiled. “You talk too much sometimes.” He leaned in closer. “Now, you gonna kiss me or not?”

Race leaned in, quickly pressing their lips together. They fell onto the bed, night falling around them as Race worked to prove just how sorry he was. And when they finished, sweaty and panting, Race made no move to get up and leave.


End file.
